For you
by CrimsonSnowScarletFate
Summary: AU: Everything happening has it own message. -Agencyshipping-


**Well, well, finally there is Agencyshipping in my collection. I have never thought that I would write about them... But who cares. I present it to you now. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, even the cover images. (I hate to admit, though.)  
**

**Black and White look cute together, I don't deny. But I like N! (Again, who cares about who I like). **

**Any grammar problems are my fault, so please show me. Because my having-sharp-tone side becomes rebellious. **

**Don't just fav. Review.**

* * *

The editor had just phoned White, remarking that her article was good. However, she didn't dare show her happiness, because the editor has her own way of compliments. A simple word "good" was never enough. White remembered when the editor had told: "Your article makes me shiver. Don't worry, that feeling only appears when I find something special." And the girl also remembered that she had jumped in joy, telling that news to everyone she met. Every night, she had re-read her works before going to bed. Hugging the pillow tightly, she had felt her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

But it was long time ago. Long time.

"_Writing is good, description is good, plot is interesting… but after I finish reading, everything seems to go away immediately. Well…" _The editor told White about the articles the brunette had written before. _"Until now, I have been remembering exact same sentences in your previous stories. White, please write something doesn't make me learn by heart like that." _

Stupefied. Not only she didn't improve a bit but she was going down.

"I'm highly disappointed." After those words, she gave Black a heavy sigh. Black was good at Natural Sciences, but bad at Social Sciences, especially Literature. Black didn't like Literature, but nodded his head when her article was considered. Actually, she just felt embarrassed to show them to her classmates…

Her grandmother usually told her that she and Black looked like a married couple. And she usually corrected. :"We're childhood friend, grandma." Their friendship was precious. However, she (always) hoped that they could be more than friends… just a little.

Black was her savior in Math Exams, her "caring brother" when they ate ice creams together, the mentor taught her to repair computer. If someone asked her about Black, that person must be falling asleep before she finished her "report". She found she had ability to talk about her childhood friend non-stop, about everything he did to her, small or big things. Each time, she could talk, think and smile to herself. Every night was the same…

Hearing her complaining about schoolwork, Black dragged her out of her computer with all cost, forcing her to eat six ice creams that he had spent money on. His serious face almost made her choke. And then they went for a walk, taking a seat in the park, under some trees.

"Listen, White. Today, I have read an article showing how to become creative." She looked at him in curiosity. "The author advises we should stay away our computers or go on a holiday or do something abnormal. Of course we can't go on holiday now, so finish your ice cream and shout at the sky and laugh like a maniac…"

"Yes, too abnormal." She laughed.

"Eh? I think you do it everyday."

"What?"

Of course she had never done that. She didn't shout or laugh crazily. But he was a big help indeed. That night, watching the sky… she thought distantly of a new topic for her article.

* * *

The only thing she disliked about Black… was that he hadn't confessed to her yet. They had been friends for ages, understood each others, cherished and adored each others. Back then the first day of high school life, she had waken up late, and half-sleep, wearing her sister's high heels – that had almost been torn. Eventually, the high heels had "gone." She had had to sit in her class, waiting and praying for a savior or miracle. And Black had picked her up at her class, giving her his shoes and riding his bike with bare foot. Seeing that, her classmates hadn't bothered to tease. Black and White were very very close. People said it was difficult for close friends to be in love… Perhaps it was true.

Back then, she had crushed on a boy in the same grades. Every day she had looked forward to seeing him, cheering and yelling when he played football, investigating what kinds of book he like, etc… and finally having guts to send him a text message. However, that boy hadn't answered. _"He has a girlfriend, who is studying abroad." _Her first love had shattered, she had cried like a child. Only Black had sit next to her, oddly quiet. The day after, he bought her a saving-money clock, suggesting her putting her money in it when being sad. Many times she had unconsciously put her money in… Black told when she saved enough money, they would go riding the Ferris Wheel. She had read about the price, and only vaguely a ticket was expensive.

"When?" She winced. Still, she continued saving up.

A lovely sunny afternoon, Black dragged her out of her room again, with all money she had been saving up. Oh… it was enough for her to buy a ticker.

"I'm coming Ferris Wheel!" He shouted excitedly.

"What about your ticket?" She asked.

"I also have one, don't worry. A ticket. Come on, we can't waste a day with nice weather like today."

"When did you save your money?"

"While you were sad and completely ignored me, your closest friend. Haha. Just kidding. Are you all right now?"

"Dunno."

"Why not? It's your sadness."

"Yes. Mine. But it persists. Sometimes, I still miss him…"

"How much?"

"Not muc…"

She couldn't finish her sentence as she took her hands and made her follow him.

"Don't worry. You will stop missing him someday. Nothing will leave in your mind. Like saving up money, the sadness can be put in somewhere, too. When 'somewhere' is full, you're no longer sad. But now… let's ride Ferris Wheel and watch the city!"

That day, she did shout at the sky. And that day seemed to be the last day she missed that boy, as well as the first day she started to think of "him". A different way. Abnormal.

* * *

Black did all those things for her, making her think of weird things… but he didn't say anything either. He had always remained silent, with an atmosphere didn't suit him at all. She had thought that he must like her… more than a friend… a lot. But he didn't say anything at all. He only saw her as his so-called childhood friend. It made her sadder than before.

He asked if she knew the film "Letters to Juliet". She shook her head. He said that the stories about Juliet not only existed in books or movies. People even opened an office at Verona, called "Juliet's house", where received letters from all Juliet(s) all over the world.

"Last week, I sent a letter too."

"Aaaaaaaa!" She exclaimed. "Really? How can you know the address, e-mail? And… they answered, didn't they? What did you write? Black, tell me, pretty please?"

"I found the address on the magazines. This is the first time I have sent a letter to strangers… to ask them…"

Her phone rang. The editor was calling. She gestured Black to wait for her, but the boy mouthed that he had to go home quickly. She waved a goodbye to him, feeling something heavy in her chest.

The editor said her idea was creative. She suggested something to White to put in her story. White was happy. After reminding her to send the article on time, the woman said:

"Do you know why your work is accepted? Because not only it contains information, but it has a message, too. It urges readers to do something. In your article, it's going out and staying away from the computers. It might be small, but it's necessary. All events have messages. All stories need this."

White smiled, pretending to sigh:

"I have to stay up late gain…"

However, she needed to tell Black about that news. She was pretty sure that he would laugh out loud, saying. "White, credit the idea to me!" He was always kidding her like that.

The next morning, she went to his house. She walked slowly and firmly, but her thoughts as if wanted to jump and dance. Oh… yeah, she must be in love with Black. She loved him. Whether she was happy or sad, she wanted to share with him. He was always by her side, whenever she needed. He treated her more specially than his girl classmates. He always smiled at her. But… he didn't feel as the way she did. At least, he didn't say a word. If he didn't want to talk about it, how could she tell him?

Then the editor's words came to her mind. Everything had its own message. We couldn't make anything from nothing. Perhaps… what Black had done… contained some messages. Perhaps, he wanted to tell her something…? Perhaps…

White startled as she noticed that she was standing in front of his house. Hearing the door bell, Black opened the door, eyes wide to see her. Awkwardly, she waved her hands to greet him. She didn't move as he told her to come inside. She just stood there, looking straight into his eyes, trying not to show how nervous she was.

"Black, can you… tell me what you wrote to Juliet in Verona?"

Black rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. This is the first time she saw him embarrassed. How odd. But she knew she was going to know the answer. She was pretty sure.

"Mn… I told a story, that… I liked my best friend. Since when? I don't know. But I like her too much. I wrote a letter to ask how I can confess to her like other boys. I haven't said that I like her. I only know to be by her side when she is sad, comfort her when she cries while using all my will power to keep myself from punch in the face of whom makes her hurt… And perhaps she doesn't know, doesn't understand my feelings."

"And what about the reply? What did they say?" She fluttered.

"They advised me to tell her that I sent a letter to Juliet's House. Because this story itself is a confession. They wrote that in letter…"

She blinked, catching a glimpse of his reddened cheek.

She inhaled, then spoke:

"If I say that I still don't see the confession in your story…"

He cut in:

"I'll repeat until you see, that I like you, I… love you. I love you, White!"

The cool wind played with her long brown hair. His words were like a miracle.

Yes… everything happened had its own message.

The editor was right. White think she should thank the woman.

"_Because…. I have found my own message for my own story…" _

**End. **


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